It was nearly an hour later when Charter made his way to the
fashionable club that he knew Belhaven commonly frequented. He went
deliberately, after a brief space of time given to what he would have
called deliberation, but which did not deserve the name. He had left
Rachel in a storm of feeling, so much more violent than anything usual
to his equable nature that he had been unable at first to think with
coherence. All smaller considerations, even the events of yesterday,
seemed relegated to the limbo of eternal forgetfulness, and nothing
was of consequence but this terrible fact, thrust so rudely into his
life, this trapping of the woman he loved by a coward who was using
her, so Charter felt, as a shield to save him from the punishment which
he so richly deserved. Yet, even in his passion, he saw that Rachel's
argument was true, that he could do nothing without exposing both
sisters to an open scandal, but, in his present mood, even that seemed
a small matter compared to Rachel's vindication, and he had no pity for
Eva at all.
It was certain, however, that he could not apply primitive methods to
the case, and he did not even dream of wringing Belhaven's neck, but,
in spite of his rage against him, he was also aware that he could not
let this go on without informing him of his own position. When he left
the old house on the hill, he had felt keenly the sting of shame and
disgust. It seemed to him that he had been there on Belhaven's own
errand, to make love to another man's wife, that he was falling to the
level of his adversary. But he would not give Rachel up; every instinct
battled against such a renunciation, and, being determined to rescue
her at any cost, he suddenly hit upon the only course that seemed open
to one of his temperament. He would see Belhaven and warn him; he would
tell him, face to face, exactly what he intended to do. This idea
taking possession of him, he acted upon it with a sudden deviation from
his usual tardy deliberation; he went directly to the club and inquired
for Belhaven.
As he supposed, he had no difficulty in finding him, seated in a corner
of the library reading, or pretending to read, a new book that in
reality was only a cover to prevent the interruption of his thought,
for Belhaven had more than enough to occupy his mind.
Catching sight of his dark head and handsome profile bent over his book
in a remote corner of the big room, Charter walked in, and observing
that the only other occupants, two rather elderly men, were deeply
engaged with their newspapers, he went over to Belhaven's retreat and
addressed him with an abruptness that made him start slightly and lay
his book upon his knee.
"I want a word with you."
Belhaven's face darkened with the recollection of John's hands on his
throat but he restrained himself with admirable determination.
"I can't exactly prevent you from saying it here," he remarked coolly.
But John took no notice of his manner; instead he leaned against the
wall opposite and folded his arms across his breast, perhaps to be
certain that he would not make too violent use of them, but he spoke as
calmly as Belhaven had, only with a slight stiffening of the lips that
with him was a sign of great anger hardly controlled.
"I came over here to tell you that I've just been to your house; I
don't want you to think I'm a sneak or a coward. I went there to see
Mrs. Belhaven because I've heard--pretty plainly--all the circumstances
of your marriage."
Belhaven took up the pipe which he had laid down at John's approach and
held it thoughtfully between his fingers, looking into the bowl of it.
"After what occurred the other day I suppose I needn't say I think it's
none of your business."
"That's just the point; it is. I love Mrs. Belhaven and I won't give
her up to you--after all I've found out!"
Belhaven threw back his head and their eyes met.
"Has she told you?"
Charter hesitated, his face flushing as darkly as his interrogator's.
He had not foreseen this natural question.
"I refuse to answer."
Belhaven smiled bitterly. "In other words you've been making love to my
wife."
"Exactly; that's what I want to say. I don't propose to be a sneak
about it; I love her and I won't allow her to be nothing more than a
shield to protect you from Astry."
Belhaven considered this a moment. His first impulse was to resent
it angrily, but, after a little thought, he decided to let it go
unquestioned. "Perhaps you don't know that she's determined to protect
Mrs. Astry."
"I don't consider that Mrs. Astry is worth her life."
"You think she's ruining her life to marry me?"
"You know well enough that you had no right to marry her!"
Belhaven's hand trembled slightly, but he emptied the ashes out of his
pipe before he replied.
"You're taking the natural view of a man in love with another man's
wife."
"That's neither here nor there; she's the one to consider. If you're a
man you'll simply give her her freedom. It's the least thing you can
do, the only reparation you can make."
"I don't suppose it occurs to you that, perhaps, she wouldn't take it."
"That's inconceivable."
"You don't know then that she has peculiar ideas about the sacredness
of the marriage ceremony?"
"Which couldn't apply to this case; you must see that yourself."
"You mean because she's married me? But I don't suppose I've anything
to do with a fixed principle."
"You think she'd apply her scruples even to such a mockery of marriage
as this?"
Belhaven assented grimly.
"You've no right to let her do it!"
"Has it occurred to you that I've a right to have my own feelings about
it?"
"You haven't; you've got to consider her, to give her up."
"And if I refuse?"
John's angry blue eyes glowed deeply. "Do you think that I'm going to
stand it? I'm a factor in this case."